


Non-Canon Drabbles

by electricghoti



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, One Shot, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:12:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3513101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricghoti/pseuds/electricghoti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short one-shots that don't fit as stories on their own. Mostly Abelas x Lavellan, sometimes features other characters. Will be updated occasionally as new things are written.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Spoon](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/102134) by slayerofkillabee. 



It is warm.  
A thick blanket of cotton lies over him, the color of dark wine and passionate nights.  
But that is not why it is warm.  
He sinks into a mattress softer than the haze of dreams, with half a dozen pillows cradling his head as a lover might hold another.  
But that is not why it is warm.  
Heat radiates behind him, steady and strong. He is enveloped in the softness of skin laid bare against him and over him, both alien and familiar. It is certainty of life that keeps the heat of breath against his back from disappearing as a chill memory. It is comfort that cups his shoulder as he rests, rather than the grasping hands of those long departed. It is trust that curls an arm loose around him, the choice of possession or not created for him to allow.  
It is love that allows him to twine is fingers in the hand around his middle and press it against his heart. It is love that allows him smile, reaching behind to hold the hand on his shoulder, connecting all to Her.  
It is not Duty who guards his back, who connects him to the future, who holds his heart in Her hands.  
Because of Her, he has a choice.  
Because of Her, he is warm.


	2. Aneth Ara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abelas x Lavellan

Her mouth is warm and soft, both familiar and new. The curves of her lips mold easily around his, even in the unusual upside down position. Gentle hands cupped her face, drawing her just that little bit closer, even while her own hands sought to mirror his. It is joy and safety, his head cradled in her lap, earnest and honest in his connection to her lips. He needs no trite words to impress and glamour her heart, as hers sings to him in moments of physical tenderness.  
He cannot help but break from the connection with a velvet laugh bubbling from his throat, separating only enough for lips to whisper against the smoothness of her own. His hands slide upward, twining in her hair to press against her neck in gentle circles. He speaks the words that cannot be contained in silence. Assurance for himself that she understands, whispers in an ancient language no longer familiar to her. Fragments of words that disappear into the air, reverent and vulnerable and honest. He breaks into the stilted language she knows best, uncertain if it will hold the same meaning. He hopes she understands.  
"You are my safe place and you have all that I am."


	3. Lifeline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirthamen, about Falon'Din

Sometimes there is sun.

Most of the time there is clouded eyes and bitterness becoming more familiar by the year. There is cold, a biting chill in displeased appraisal, where offerings of warmth were accepted before. Barriers of ice separated Him now, sapping the heat of each touch in numbing, needling pains if held too long. A darkness threatens to swallow the bond He bears, a budding tenuousness that taints the breaks of light He shines in moments of tender silence.

These are moments that remind Him of what was, what should be, who is heat that yearns for the burn of passion and bonded souls. A slow burn settles beside the ice instead, taking in the worst of bitterness and inflicted pain. Desire and need and desperate protection to save a bright star dimming in the encroaching night.

Sometimes there is sun breaking through the dark.

The smiles He gifts are worth holding back the poisonous black.


	4. Heartless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A possible outcome if Solas returns after the end-game.

“Is this elvhen bothering you?” Spoken with the even intonations of a concerned friend, though the hand tenderly placed in the small of her back indicated otherwise. Possessive, but giving her the freedom to move from his touch. His heart squeezed more than he’d care to admit when she leaned into his touch, carefully (he hoped) blank in expression while she appraised him. Distant. Too much like he was a stranger. He had hurt her, unintended on his part, but he still hoped…

“No. He is someone I used to know.”

And now he had none. He flinched visibly, immediately averting his eyes. No other words could be chosen that would cause such needling in his heart. He could live with hate, but indifference was a path that severed the connection to she who was once his heart.  
“Vhenan, please…” 

The words came unbidden, pleading with a shaky voice he swore he would never use again after cowardice and fate forced his separation from her. He dared to raise his eyes to hers, reaching open palmed in tentative offering of his hand. The choice, he would always give to her.

She drew her brows together, the corner of her mouth turning downward in a small frown. Shaking her head slowly, she cocked her hip such that she leaned into the shoulder of her companion. Companion, capital. The gesture by itself caused his face to fall, though the words she spoke in reply made him snap his hand back to his chest, wounded and rejected. There was nothing more for him here.

"You have no Heart, Solas. Mine is no longer chained by your ghosts and guilt."


	5. Centered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slayerfkillabee's AU horned Sten at what seems to be the beginning of a romantic relationship. Wow. Much fluff. Very early birthday drabble gift.

"What is your wish, Kadan?" The question was phrased as it always was, intoned in the same manner of warmth each time she asked for his attention. Something about this time made her pause mid sentence, frowning as she cocked her head to the side in mild confusion.  
“You've called me that before. What does it mean, Sten? Kadan? I don't think you've told me yet.” 

“Kadan is a word that does not mean the same for every Qunari.”

“That sounds like you're trying to dodge the question. You could be calling me a tasty nug and I wouldn't even know it.”

“ I cannot compare your taste to a nug, since I have not attempted to eat either of those. Kadan, on the other hand, I can explain further: It means you are my center and unlike these others we travel with I keep you close to my heart.”

“You-you do? I never expected you to actually feel… I thought you decided I was a man, or has that changed?”

“No.” He stated this matter-of-factly, though some surprise managed to color his tone as if the answer should have been obvious. He had told her before she was not a woman, as she claimed to be at the time. She flinched in response, immediately looking away to hide the hurt expression not hidden behind the stony neutrality she often displayed outside of camp. Another surprise. He thought he had been precise enough to avoid the confusion of language that frustrated him daily, but perhaps more explanation would be needed. “Kadan,” He began, curling a calloused finger under her chin to tip it upward with gentle pressure, encouraging her to lift her eyes to meet his own. She appeared both expectant of rejection and faint hopefulness alike, and her full face never failed to soften his usual severity. He bent forward, closing the gap between their faces so that the vision in his eyes matched the vision he held in his heart – her and nothing else.

“You are not a woman. You are also not a man, not an elf, and not a Grey Warden. You simply are. You center me. You keep me balanced. You are my comrade and within you is the place where my heart lies.” The last words are spoken with a rare smile hardly seen since his initial foray into this country of dogs and mud. It is a small secret shown only to her when there are no other eyes upon them. His hand supporting her chin dropped to her breast to press against the place where her own heart dwelled in physical demonstration of his meaning. It pleased him to see the change in her expression morph from sadness, to joy mixed with relief. Whatever fears she may have had appeared to be invalidated by this act, a fact shown by her own hands covering his, squeezing to connect rather than remove.

“I...thank you. I don’t know a word in my language that means the same thing, so I suppose this will be the next best thing I can do.” The sudden feel of her mouth on his took him by such surprise that he pulled free of her hands to grasp her shoulders as if to push her away, but something prevented him from separating, stilled his hands on bandage bound shoulders he had dressed himself earlier. Perhaps it was the warmth of her hands reconnecting to his, or the softness of her lips pressed against the harsher angles of his own that sought to impart unspoken thoughts and hidden feelings once assumed unreciprocated. Perhaps it was the confidence of a kiss done with such open honesty which caused his hands to wander of their own accord, sliding his palms along her neck to cup her jaw in a gentle hold. Captured within his hands, insistent fingers pulled her further toward him in a rising passion he allowed himself to feel only for those given his greatest respect. Of which there were few, but she has earned a very place high on the list.

With great reluctance he broke the kiss after what he assumed must have been minutes, but in reality a span of moments, brushing the pads of his thumbs across her cheeks. “Kadan,” He spoke, swallowing the gravel tone his voice had begun to take, “I don't understand your meaning as well as I should. I need more opportunity to learn. I expect you to be an adequate teacher.” Delivered deadpanned and deliberate in his wording, he released her face from his gentle hold and turned to leave her open-mouthed where she stood. He glanced behind him only once while he walked away and observed her shaking head with a blooming smile that either wondered what just happened, or wished there would be more.


	6. A Caged Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recurring dream of Sten's during the 11 years after the Blight ends, focused on Slayerofkillabee's Warden Tabris.

A soft wetness pressed against his cheek, a repeated bathing of a canine tongue which roused him from dreamless slumber. In vain he attempted to bury his nose between silk and honey-thick hair curled around his fingers. The tongue persisted despite his shifting and with an inward groan he extracted his hand from its place cradling the head of a sleeping body to swipe at his cheek, only to discover it dry. His fingers lingered against his cheek and one eye cracked open to peer at his surroundings in dawning realization of where he was.  
Not dreamless, but dreaming. He was aware on some level of his surroundings, of this particular repetition in which he finds himself "awakened" to each night. Breezy, gauzy curtains of white billow without wind in front of windows letting in the first rays of sunrise which illuminated the room in a twilight haze. The background was blurry and out of focus, unimportant compared to the only thing his eyes could see with absolute clarity: the small body curled against his chest which brought him such warmth whether asleep or awake. Elf. Grey Warden. Woman. None of those titles mattered. All of her encompassed his heart that happened to beat outside of his chest. His free hand traced the outline of her jaw, thumbed the corner of her mouth smiling even in sleep, brushed thick strands of hair from her eyes. 

All things which he could not, and cannot do outside the safety of his dreams. Even here the temptation of easy contentment and allowing himself the luxury of solace in her presence was soured with the rigid separation his people keep love and lust, of his duty to lead his people without those not of the Qun distracting him. That he wanted to be in the presence of a person more than his duty caused threads of doubt to weave themselves through all of his thoughts whenever he dreamt of what could be. That over time, even with separation he wished her in his arms and not as a close comrade and friend. He wanted more. The thought never failed to darken the dream in his horror and blatant disrespect in desiring her heart as well as her body.  
And yet…  
He pressed his arm against her back, cradling the back of her head in his palm in a gesture both protective and possessive. He silently mouthed words against the top of her head in what could be a curse or a prayer for his weakness. He could lose her if he chose. He could admit harboring such weakness of character. He could deliberately be rid of her memory and renew his duty and dedication to the Qun. And yet...the very idea chilled him more than harboring this secret love for a decade more, more than his dreams being haunted by specters of memory and things he wished he could have. As with every night before, he will choose to keep his heart alive, to keep her close despite the danger of discovery. 

He is unsure of mere minutes or hours passed with her held tightly in his arms, embracing for as long as he can before duty calls him back and only carefully screened letters from her keep him company in the waking world. A sharp bark startled him from his inward focus, and he automatically shifted to cover the open ear of the still sleeping elf with his palm to protect from further noise. She never woke, but it was always an involuntary gesture all the same.  
"Parsharra," he hissed, raising his head from the pillow to eye the hound staring at him expectantly from the other side of the mattress. "I know it is time. I do not need to be reminded." He received a skeptical huff in response while the dog plodded around the bed. Deliberately slow as if to allow him as much time curled around the sleeping elf, but with the intent to stand behind him and force the issue, if necessary. This he learned after only a few nights of dream teeth at his back when he attempted to ignore the figment demanding he wake.

He rolled from the bed with great regret, trailing his fingers down her arm with a feather touch as he rose. A well chewed stick leaned against the foot of the bed as if it were always there, a wet sheen on the ends as if the mabari had only just released it from his mouth. He sighed heavily, allowing himself a few last wistful moments of her to permeate his thoughts. One last look at her sleeping form as he took the stick in hand, tensed his arm behind him, and threw to a wall he knew would fade to an open field stretching as far as his eye could see. On cue a grey blur rushed by his side, giving chase as if the stick was a rabbit on the run from a hunter, or a precious and fragile possession which would break if it touched the ground. He waited. He watched. His vision dimmed until the field of green and a grey blob were all he could see. It was almost time. He stood patiently, arms at his sides as he watched the stick make its fall into a waiting mabari mouth, and soon the rest was black.

The absence of warmth is the first thing he noticed as a sign of true wakefulness. Utilitarian and plain, his true bedroom lacks the manufactured perfection of his dreams. Spartan and empty and devoid of illusion his mind insisted on replaying each night, despite his effort to lead and love from afar. He chose duty over her when the Blight was done and he had completed his mission for the previous Arishok. A duty he fulfilled each day for his people's safety and ultimately for hers. Because of her, he had found the atonement his caged mind craved. Because of her, his soul found freedom in her heart. So he woke, he performed his duty, and he waited for a stick to be thrown to him so that he may follow its path back to her. His Kadan.


End file.
